The Golden Gecko
by Toonlinkwolfstar
Summary: Another case for the consulting detective and his blogger. A new game is on, though the pawn seems to be the main attraction.


**The Golden Gecko: Chapter 1 – BORED!**

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"Bored…" Sherlock mumbled to himself, staring at the ceiling. He knew John was out, buying the milk and other necessities like tea bags and food of course, that he had neglected to buy once again. He didn't like shopping, it made his thought process slow down, and besides, it was extremely tedious.

"Bored…!" He yelled, back arching slightly off of the sofa he was led on. The detective's hawk-like eyes scanned the room for something he could do. They settled upon a large can of yellow paint.

Sherlock's lips twitched slightly as he quickly stood, swooping over to the can and picking it up by the handle. He put the can down on the coffee table and threw his dressing gown somewhere in the room, his hands going about opening the can of paint. He had a bit of trouble, but with the help of a handy pair of scissors and some leverage from underneath, the lid popped off, allowing Sherlock to dip the large paint brush he had collected from the kitchen while grabbing the utensils he used to open up the can. As soon as the bristles were dripping with the yellow paint he went about flicking the paint all over the already abused wall, the yellow smiley face from the last time he got his hands on the can of paint still painted onto the wall, the gunshot holes still present, too.

The detective went at this for hours and when his flatmate returned, he was hardly impressed at what Sherlock had done.

The yellow paint was everywhere: on the carpet, the wall most of all, the table, the sofa. The only bad thing was that it probably would never come out properly, seeing at it was proper paint.

The doctor let out a loud and irritated sigh as he went about doing his best to clean up the mess Sherlock had made and also sorting the shopping he had returned with.

As soon as he found himself to be finished or at least too tired to continue anymore due to having walked most of that way with quite heavy bags he sat, holding his tea in his hand and sipping it, glancing at the curly haired man who had taken up the foetal position on the sofa, a bit sulky seeing as John did snap at him upon entering and ignored him as soon as he calmed down. He was used to this by now, anyway. Well, at least John was; Sherlock on the other hand didn't much like being told off for something he did to entertain himself, or arguing with John in general for that moment. In truth, he actually hated angering John, but why he did these things in the first place was obvious. Boredom did things to people. Sometimes bad, sometimes good, and John had come to terms with what side Sherlock had with boredom.

"Look, Lestrade uh… Well he said there may be a case for you soon. Only might, so don't get excited. Don't blow anything up because of that, okay?" John said slowly to the curled up male.  
"I'm bored, John! Give me something to do! I'd like it to be a case, though." Sherlock exclaimed as he jumped up, standing on the sofa, curling his toes slightly in frustration.

The blogger puffed out his cheeks for a moment before exhaling again, glancing around the room in search of something for the destructive man to do. Sherlock could be such a child when he was bored. He just whined and didn't do much about it, not that all children do that.

"Uh…" John gnawed at his lip slightly, eyeing Sherlock. "I don't know!" He said finally, sighing in defeat.

"BOOOOOOOOOORED!" Sherlock yelled, flopping back down onto the sofa, making John flinch as he thought Sherlock was going to hurt himself, but apparently the jerking forward of his neck as he landed didn't hurt him, or Sherlock refused to show signs of pain. If he was, John wouldn't notice that much, seeing as he didn't have the brain of the man who led next to him in a strop on the sofa.

The sudden ring of Sherlock's phone made John jump, the silence having been broken. Sherlock sat up at once, grabbing his phone from the side and quickly reading the text. He smiled widely and got up, running into his room and coming out in a collar shirt and black trousers, shrugging on his coat and wrapping the scarf around his neck, pulling his gloves on just as John finished his tea, pulling on his own coat. Sherlock was off down the stairs in a flash, and John followed behind him.

A taxi appeared from nowhere and Sherlock flagged it down. They both clambered in and the taxi set off to their destination; a crime scene, John was guessing.

It didn't take very long for them to reach their destination. They climbed out and they were in a small neighbourhood, police cars, ambulances and yellow caution tape everywhere. Something big must have happened.

Sherlock swept to the yellow caution tape, his eyes trained on Lestrade, who appeared to be having a conversation with Anderson. However Donovan appeared from nowhere.

"Why are you here, Freak?" She greeted, not all too nicely, though that little 'nickname' wasn't used by just her and John was sure it didn't affect Sherlock that much.  
"Lestrade texted me."

"Why?"

"I believe he wanted me to take a look."

John chuckled, relishing in the fact that it sounded much like the conversation they had when he and Sherlock went on their first case together; A Study in Pink, as he called it on his blog.

Donovan shut her mouth, pulling up the tape, Sherlock and John ducking under it and wandering over to the grey-haired inspector.

Lestrade quickly went through the details and let Sherlock walk in circles around the bodies of three dead people, one male and two female. A moments later Sherlock started blathering on about an umbrella, and about rain, and… oh John was losing track of Sherlock's deductions… Wait, no, normally he could keep up, but everything that was coming out of Lestrade's and Sherlock's mouths just sounded garbled and muffled. He couldn't make it out. Suddenly the blogger heard ringing in his ears, blocking out everything entirely. His head started to pound, making his hands latch onto his temples.

The groan that left John's mouth unwillingly snapped the two males' attention. Lestrade put a hand on John's back, and Sherlock watched, frowning slightly and a face John hadn't ever seen there before. Confusion. It seemed Sherlock didn't know what was happening, and nor did John for that matter.

John felt his knees buckle and he fell down onto his knees, falling down onto his stomach.

The last thing John remembered hearing was the yell of his name and more yelling, but he couldn't make out for what though, before the darkness fell around him.


End file.
